


Breathe You In

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Quiet Sex, Scents & Smells, Secret Crush, Sleepovers, Sleepy Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: Westside are headed off to London the next morning, so Nicky lets Mark crash at his place.





	

Nicky closed his eyes, listening to Mark breathe.

It was probably perverse. Probably counted as some sort of voyeurism or something, though he'd be hardpressed to explain how. Just as hardpressed to explain why he was doing it, not without giving the wrong idea. Because it calmed him. Because that, combined with the smell of Mark, warm and swelling, was simultaneously comforting and exciting.

He'd brought it on himself. Kian and Shane were crashed at Bryan's, and Nicky had said of course Mark could stay with him. Could have his bed and all. It was just for the night, until the early flight to London the next morning. Easier for everyone to stay with them in Dublin than try to get down from Sligo in the morning. Nicky didn't think he could sleep, anyway. It wasn't every day you got to meet Simon bloody Cowell.

Mark was asleep. Could sleep on a rock, apparently. Or like one. They'd stayed up for a little while, having dinner and Mark being polite to Nicky's parents. He was a sweet boy, like that. Always quiet and friendly. Nicky had thought him shy, and he was, but he was coming out of his shell slowly, had a mad sense of humour when he got comfortable and had a few in him. He made Nicky laugh.

He made Nicky feel a lot of things.

The floor was hard under his back. Nicky stared up at the ceiling, heard Mark grunt softly, and watched a hand flop over the side of the bed, fingers dangling in the air.

He wanted to ask if Mark was awake. Knew he wasn't.

Inhaled deep, let it out. Tried to match the next one to Mark's, to slow sleepy breaths. Reached up, letting his fingers brush Mark's, a tentative touch, guiltily pulled away when they curled against his. He stayed still, waiting for a sign that Mark had woken.

It didn't come.

He closed his eyes, biting his lip. Wished he didn't feel like this. Heavy in his pyjama bottoms, heart beating a little faster and breaths coming harder while he watched fingers dangle helplessly off Nicky's mattress. Wondered if Mark had been able to smell him in the pillow, if Mark knew that Nicky had touched himself there, thought about Mark while he'd done it. About shy smiles and cheeky blue eyes. The hug he'd gotten when he'd left Sligo a few days before, back to Dublin to pack for their next trip.

This was it, he suspected. Make or break. Louis had taken them on, he and Bryan were in. The Sligo boys had performed for Simon before, been told to change the lineup, and now here he was. He had to pinch himself to believe it was real.

Soft breaths swelled through him. There were months ahead, apparently. Of being on the road together. Louis wanted them out and doing promo as soon as possible, and Nicky trusted the guy. He'd organised bloody Boyzone, after all. He wondered if they'd share hotel rooms. Wondered if he and Mark would share a hotel room.

His hand slid into his boxers. Normally he slept naked, but he'd figured there was such a thing as propriety when someone else was sharing the room. He was already up, wondered if he should feel guilty about that, then didn't bother. He was about to wank off with Mark in the room. There were other things to feel guilty about.

But god, Mark. They'd gotten their hair cut that week, and Mark had looked so self-conscious, short and spiky where before it had been floppy. It made him look older, showed off those rosy cheeks. Then when Nicky had walked out, hair about two inches shorter, Mark had smiled gently and said he looked nice, and Nicky hadn't minded that it felt a bit silly, not when Mark was giving him that look.

He was fairly sure Mark was gay. Wanted to be certain, though part of him wondered if it was wishful thinking. Still, the looks he'd been getting, the touches, the random hugs and careful smiles... there had to be something there. Had to. Because Nicky knew if he stumbled any further he'd be falling hard.

Mark's breath, still slow while his own sped up. Moving slow, a teasing caress, wanting a moment to savour the sense of him. The presence of Mark in his room, the warmth. Tickling a thumb over his slit and imagining it was Mark, imagining feeling the breaths hot on his neck instead of up there into the pillow.

The floor was hard beneath the blanket as he wriggled his boxers down. He wondered whether Mark would blush if he saw Nicky like this, naïve blue eyes widening, curious. Pink lips gnawing under white teeth, going red and swollen while he watched. While he watched Nicky...

“Oh,” he breathed, bit his own lip to keep it inside. Wanted to whisper Mark's name. Feel him. Show him how good it could be, find out how much Mark knew on his own, whether he was really as innocent as Nicky suspected or if that was just part of getting to know Mark, finding out that he was filthy after all. Wanted to wrap his legs round curving hips, scrape his nails down a long back. Breathe him in and feel the softness of him, the scratch of hair. Feel strong arms hold him down, holding him in. Feel Mark.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, quickened the stroke. Shivered. Not close. Not remotely. Wanted this to go fast, so Mark wouldn't catch him. Wanted to drag it out for hours, tugging to the beat of those slow, settled brea-

They'd stopped. He realised it suddenly, opened his eyes.

Sleepy blue eyes, widening in surprise. Cheeks going impossibly pink. A plush bottom lip caught under gnawing teeth.

Nicky stared back, wanted to stop. Knew he should. Mark's gaze flicked down, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Nicky heard him drag in a breath. Saw dark eyes darken further. Saw guilty want.

“Ni-”

“Shh,” Nicky interrupted. Mark nodded slowly, tongue darting out again. Nicky's own did the same, mouth suddenly dry. He closed his eyes again, arched into his grip, and when he opened his eyes Mark was slipping out of bed slowly, feet settling into the blankets as he knelt down, hands awkwardly settling beside Nicky until he could lower himself, propped alongside Nicky on one elbow, eyes crawling everywhere like they weren't sure where to land.

“Can...”

“Yes.” Fuck, yes, he could. A hand settled on his thigh, warm even through the blanket. Not moving up. Squeezing carefully, like it wasn't sure what it should be doing. It was enough, though. Jesus, it was enough.

“That's so sexy,” Mark whispered. Nicky gulped. Fuck. Okay, not that naïve, apparently. Shy though, definitely unsure, but Mark looked hungry, and when he sank down lower and breathed against Nicky's ear, Nicky was certain he wanted this.

“Touch me,” Nicky breathed. Mark swallowed. It sounded loud, gulped into his neck.

“I haven't...”

“You want to?” He needed to stop talking so much. His parents were just up the hall. But fuck, Mark's chest was moving fast and shallow, and Nicky wanted to grab him, haul him in. Feel a heavy shape on top of him. Needed not to break the spell, not when Mark was arching carefully into his thigh, weight and heat and the solid feeling of an erection through fabric. Nicky groaned silently, crooking his leg to press back. Felt Mark shiver in surprise.

“Oh.” He shivered again, hips moving harder against Nicky's thigh. “Oh.” The press of a nose against his throat, nuzzling helplessly back and forth. Nicky's own hand sped up. “Oh fuck.”

Harsh breaths, sweat through a pyjama shirt, sticking to Nicky's bare arm, trapped between strong thighs while they shifted and rocked against his own. It was slick, hot. An arm fell across his waist for purchase, and Nicky reached out, pulled him in, arm wrapping around strong shoulders while a dark head fell to his own, wet lips sucking and parting against his collarbone.

He looked down. Hard. Slipping through his grip. Not that close, but getting there. Mark was watching too. A whining moan shivered into Nicky's neck, broken by the rocking of Mark's hips.

“That's it,” Nicky crooned, heard Mark sob. “That's it.”

“Yes,” Mark whispered. “I... I'm...”

“Want me to?”

“Just...” Mark gulped, eyes squeezing shut as he buried himself in Nicky's shoulder, almost like he was trying to hide. “Stay still. Let me.”

“Anything,” Nicky gasped. Fucking anything. Jesus. Not ideal, this, not even sure what it meant, but fuck, Mark could have anything. “Anything you want, love.” Mark moaned again, grip tightening.

“Can...” He gulped. “Oh fuck.” His hand moved, tugging Nicky slightly, and Nicky went, letting himself be rolled onto his side. Mark was pressed to his back a beat later, picking up the same rhythm again. Stark hardness rutting against him, not low enough, but grinding slowly, Mark's breaths sharp in his ear.

His hand went back, hooked a soft nape, hair slipping between his fingers. Sloppy kisses mouthed over his shoulder. He felt Mark try to wriggle out of his pyjamas, did the same, not sure if it was invitation or convenience. Still, the first touch of it, of flesh on skin, was intoxicating, and he gasped out loud in surprised pleasure, heard a breathless, choked off cry.

“God.” Mark sounded just as surprised. “God, oh, Nicky.” Keening whine, right in his ear.

Nicky shifted, reached back, and the whine was louder this time. Thick shaft filling his grip, pulse racing and throbbing under the skin. The ridge of it, twitching in his hand while Mark sawed through his curled hand, thrusting into him while Nicky guided him down, pressed Mark against his hole and felt a rush of pleasure, of muscles contracting in anticipation.

“Oh.” Mark kept saying it, blurting it. “Oh.” Leaking against him while too-tight muscles loosened then clenched, tingling with every press. “Oh.” One arm wrapped tight around Nicky's waist. Mark was breathing hard in his ear. Close. Nicky could tell, from the sweat slicking the back of his neck, Mark's rocking, nudging tight muscles apart. “Oh, Nicky.” He tensed. Nicky felt it. “Ah...”

“Yes,” Nicky whispered. Mark tensed again, hand dropping to catch himself up, rub himself against Nicky harder, urgent. Nicky wanted this. Wanted it more than his own release. Wanted the want. To know Mark felt what he did.

Mark came almost soundlessly. Teeth bit into his shoulder, a grunting, growling, groaning moan that exhaled out of him in a rush. The arm on Nicky's waist was too tight, bending them almost double while slick spilled up the backs of his thighs, the crack of his arse. Filled the crease of him and trickled warm down his bollocks, a slow drip of release. He shivered against it, sped up his stroke, trying to ride the wave of Mark's pleasure.

“Nicky.” Every breath was his name. Nicky thrilled, arching back into the mouth moving sloppily across his shoulders, up the back of his neck, biting kisses that felt almost like ownership. Nicky closed his eyes, focusing. “Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicky...”

“Mark...” he gasped. “Keep...”

“So good.” Mark sounded breathless, completely dazed. Nicky knew how he felt. “God, I never thought...” He hissed into Nicky's skin, and Nicky realised the teenage refractory period was well under way, sensitive flesh trying to rally itself too fast, too soon. Mark was humping against him. Rubbing jerkily like he wasn't sure if he wanted to go again, if he could. Nicky reached back again, hand knotting in soft hair. A kiss mouthed his ear.

A hand wrapped around him, moving fast.

“Oh.” Now Nicky couldn't stop saying it. “Oh.” He bit his lip hard, almost to draw blood. Knew he'd cry out if it got any more intense. He was drowning in the smell of Mark, the feel of him, the sounds he was making. The scent of sex, thick and guilty through the blanket. Mark's sex.

A heavy thigh hooked his. He tipped his head back, felt lips capture his clumsily. Mark tasted like sleep, like wet, hot want.

“Fuck,” Nicky breathed. “Fuck.”

“Nicky.” His name sounded sweet, breathed against his lips. Stubble scraped his cheek, Mark's face pressed alongside his, both of them trying to mouth the other into a kiss.

“Gonna,” Nicky warned. Mark made a low noise of approval, wrist twisting, moving fast. Another arm wrapped around his chest, fingers fumbling at his nipples.

He came with a sob, sucked away by a grasping mouth. Mark was breathing hard again, still mostly soft, trapped between his arse cheeks, but god, it was the feel of it. Slid against him, the promise of thick flesh. Of Mark, clinging to him while Nicky let go.

He came down slowly, felt Mark slip out. Sticky, the soft squelch making them both giggle. Springs squeaked when Mark climbed back into bed. Nicky didn't know if he could roll onto his back without making a mess. A packet of wet-wipes landed gently in front of him, and when he looked over his shoulder he was getting a cheeky grin.

He nodded his thanks. Mark giggled silently while he cleaned himself up. It probably did look silly, Nicky wiping his arse under a blanket on the floor, face scrunched up in concentration. He thew the wipe at Mark when he was done, heard an indignant yelp, then a soft laugh. He grinned back.

“Night, Nicky,” Mark whispered. Nicky rolled onto his back, looking up at a curled hand dangling over the side, dancing blue eyes. He took Mark's hand, felt it squeeze into his grip.

“Night,” Nicky whispered back. He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to say something, then decided not to. He didn't want to get off on the wrong foot, and there was plenty of time.

He closed his eyes, smiling, heard soft breaths even back out, felt fingers relax.

Nicky rolled on his side and snuggled down, the floor still hard under him, the sound of Mark filling the room.

 


End file.
